


All the Lights Are Shining

by Jael



Series: Moments [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Extended First Season Legends, F/M, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Minor Injuries, Snowed In, Stuck in the past, UST, stuck together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 21:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: A few weeks after the events of "In the Moment," Sara and Leonard get left behind in late December 1994. Maybe they'll actually get to do something about their relationship...whatever that might be. For the 2018 CaptainCanary Secret Santa.





	All the Lights Are Shining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LarielRomeniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarielRomeniel/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to LarielRomeniel! It didn't seem right to have you beta your own present, so many thanks to Pir8grl for the beta this time. :) Chapter one of three. (It got a little out of control...) This is set in an AU where Leonard didn't die at the Oculus, the Legends saved Rip's family, and the team's still flying around, screwing up history for the better.
> 
> Prompts:  
> Don't you dare buy me that.  
> If you throw that snowball, you’re declaring war.  
> Keep doing that, and you’ll end up on the naughty list.

**Day One**

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_

_There is just one thing I need_

_Don't care about the presents_

_Underneath the Christmas tree_

* * *

 

The safe house in Rivers City is cold, but not as cold as Sara had expected. Still, she tucks her feet under herself a little more securely, shivering a bit even under the blanket around her shoulders as she shifts the sleeping Leonard just a little.

The wounded crook, still uncharacteristically out like a light, sighs but doesn’t wake. Sara runs a gentle hand over the bandage on his left shoulder, pleased that it remains pristine, also pleased that he’s continuing to let her remain so close. She needs the contact, for more reasons than one.

They’ve been left behind. Again. Well, again for her. The only things keeping her from screaming are the facts that it’s 1994 and not 1958 this time—and that it’s Leonard here with her instead of Ray and Kendra. And he needs her.

They’d been running for the Waverider as it waited for them in the field just outside Rivers City proper, knowing that a few of the time pirates they’d been here to foil were right on their heels. Sara had put on a burst of speed as the pirates’ timeship had appeared in the sky overhead, putting the Waverider into an impossible position. They had to get to the ship; on the ground, it was a sitting duck. And if it took off...

Then she’d heard Leonard grunt in pain from where he’d been running just behind and to her right. Sara had glanced around to see him fall, saw the brilliant red of fresh blood splatter onto the dirty snow around them, and felt her heart plummet. She’d skidded to a halt and spun, running for the time pirate holding the gun. He’d been taking aim again when she’d given him something else to think about, knocking him off his feet before taking out his cohort, who’d run up on her other side.

Behind her, she’d heard the pirate timeship fire, and then the unmistakable sound of the Waverider engines roaring.

But there was one more time pirate coming at her, and she could hear Leonard swearing weakly nearby, and...

And when the dust cleared, literally, the Waverider was gone, and so was the pirate timeship. Sara stared up into the empty sky for just a moment before turning back to Leonard, who had his right hand clapped over his left bicep and was wincing in pain as he struggled to get upright.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to figure out that the wound was just a painful, somewhat deep gouge, no major blood vessels damaged—nothing too serious, but in need of attention. Sara barely noticed where the remaining pirates had gotten to, concentrating on getting Leonard to his feet and following his profanity-laced directions to get them both to a local safe house without leaving a blood trail.

In that same safe house, hours later, Sara sighs. She looks down at Leonard again and then, greatly daring, runs her fingers over his close-cropped hair, thinking about how she’d felt when she’d seen him fall and seen the blood against the snow.

They’ve become...close...over the past year. Teammates, friends and partners. And they're been drifting toward more, lately. She’d woken up in Leonard’s arms after a recent mission, the attraction between them crackling and electric, and they’d skated around the potential for something more, both physical and otherwise.

Of course, that’s when Rip had contacted them, letting them know the ship was back early, and there was another crisis, because of course there was. And a bit of cuddling had, after all, been all that happened that day.

But Sara doubted either of them had forgotten about it.

She knows she hadn’t.

Ripping her thoughts away from that subject—and unwilling to start thinking too much about the Waverider and its whereabouts—she looks up again, glancing around at the spartan furnishings of the safe house. The space, an office suite in an old, currently unused building, doesn’t have much, but it does have a fairly nice futon (she leans her head back against the cushion, sighing) and a few other comforts, including a fireplace built into one wall. There’s no fuel at the moment, but if they stay here for a few days, they can acquire some.

Just a few days, she thinks. Please.

At least she’s with Leonard.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, the man in question mutters, then, his eyes fluttering open and blinking with confusion before they focus on her. Sara gives him a rueful smile, deciding not to comment on the fact that he’s sprawled out on the futon with his head in her lap. Not only is it obvious, he’ll either freak out about it or he won’t. Nothing she could say now will change that.

Leonard doesn’t freak out. Nor does he move. He simply regards her a moment, perhaps a hint of color on his face, then gives her a fraction of a smile in return.

“You OK?” he asks quietly. “Sorry I passed out.”

Sara shrugs carefully. “Fine. Hey, I know about what happens when that post-injury adrenaline rush fades.” She studies him. “And you? How do you feel?”

“Ow.”

“Well, that’s a direct answer.” She watches as he shifts a little, gingerly moving his arm. “You remember everything? It was kind of a blur.”

“I think so.” He pauses and those blue eyes flick to her face again. “Decent gouge, pretty clean, nothing major hit. Ruined a perfectly good sweater.”

Sara can’t help but chuckle. “Well, at least you weren’t wearing your parka.” Sara had been wearing it, since she’d unexpectedly been the one stuck outside for part of the mission.

“Good thing.” He shifts a little again, then, with a grunt of pain, levers himself up. Sara sighs at the loss of the warmth, but smiles as he settles himself besides her, leaning back against the cushion and tilting his head to watch her.

“Well,” he says after a moment. “We’re stuck here for the moment. The ship probably couldn’t come back to right at the same time because of the time pirates, but it might not be too long.”

Sara eyes him, grateful for the optimism he’s showing on what she’s pretty sure is her behalf, but uncertain if it’s based in reality. “Hmmm.” She declines to question it, though. “Can we stay here long? Is young you likely to drop by?” She’d rather like to see a 22-year-old Leonard, but it’d probably blow the timeline all to hell.

For some reason, the question causes a shadow to fall over her Le...this Leonard’s expression, however. After a moment, he shakes his head roughly, although he answers the first question in the affirmative. “We can stay here. I only set foot in this place again once, and that’s more than a year from now.”

Sara refuses to think about being stuck here more than a year. She does, however, study him, letting the question show on her face, knowing that he’ll notice and answer it — or not. And after a moment, Leonard does sigh again, nodding to himself, letting his eyes sweep around the room.

“I set this safe house up for a very specific heist,” he tells her. “One that never wound up happening. And the memories aren’t great.”

Sara considers, but they’ve talked and shared enough stories by now that she pinpoints the pertinent one fairly quickly.

“Alexa?” she asks quietly.

“Bingo.” Leonard gets to his feet with a faint, irritated noise of pain, turning slowly to survey the room. “This is where we were going to lay low a bit afterward, before we...left the country for a while. Mick had another place to stay.”

Where they were going to shack up, he meant, Sara decides, studying his expression. She knows the woman named Alexa had been his first real love, back when he was, yes, in his early 20s. And she knows that Leonard had figured out she’d been planning to use him and betray him and Mick, knows that he’d dumped the heist and confronted Alexa, who’d admitted it with a laugh.

Well. That explains the very comfy futon.

“Bitch,” she mutters. She usually owns that label, but it’s distinctly _not_ a term of respect in this case.

Leonard gives her a small twitch of the lips that’s really not a smile by most definitions of the word. “Long time ago.”

“Still.” Sara gets to her feet too, joining him in looking around the place. “Sorry you had to come back here.”

“Don’t be. At least it’s proving useful.” An expression that’s more like a real smile, or smirk, or both, crosses his face then. “And oddly enough, it actually might help me solve an old mystery.”

“Oh?” Sara watches as he crosses the floor to the fireplace, getting to a knee and rummaging around in the base, eventually pulling a false bottom aside to retrieve a strongbox. He replaces the base, then appears to realize that he can’t easily stand without a way to brace himself. She bites back a smile at the look of annoyance, then crosses to offer an arm.

Leonard accepts the help with only a mutter of annoyance, one that’s not directed at her, and Sara forbears to needle him about their relative ages. He crosses the room and puts the box down on the small table by the compact fridge, then pulls lockpicks from somewhere about his person and peers at the tiny lock.

“Long since pitched the key,” he mutters. “But...there!”

The lock falls open after only moments, and Sara rolls her eyes at the proud smirk he tosses back at her, moving over to look into the box as he opens it.

Well, Leonard does like to be prepared, she thinks, feeling her eyes widen at the wads of cash within. With any luck, that’s more than enough to keep them for a while, especially since they have somewhere safe to stay for the time being. Sara lets out a breath, letting go of one of her multiple worries.

“When I did come back, it was to retrieve a cache of money and fake ID that I’d left here, but there were clear signs that someone had been here, and the cache was gone, box and all,” Leonard tells her, looking down at the box in question. “And Alexa hadn’t known about this safe house, just that I was setting _something_ up for us.” He shakes his head. “Apparently, I’m the one who took it.”

Sara decides she’s not going to think about that very long. She doesn’t need the headache that the ins and outs of time travel could give her right now. She can’t help being intrigued, however, by the thought that young Leonard will see the aftermath of their visit here. Did they have to stay long? Were there any hints that would make sense in hindsight?

“Was it...set up for longer-term residence?” she asks him, a little delicately.

“Not in particular.” But another odd look crosses his face, an expression gone so quickly that Sara wonders if she’d imagined it. But Leonard has another question before she can ask.

“Comms still dead?” he says, turning away and checking out the fridge, which is empty.

Sara tests hers. “Yep.”

“Then we should head out while it’s still light. Get some food and changes of clothing—warm clothing. If we need to hole up here for a while, we might as well be comfortable.” He glances down at his arm. “Maybe medical supplies.”

Sara hums thoughtfully. “You really need stitches, you know.”

“I’ll live. Another scar for the collection.”

* * *

It’d been odd enough, knowing that they were in a time and place so very close to when and where what Leonard privately terms “the Alexa heist” would have taken place. To be here, in the cozy—well, it would have been cozy if he’d finished putting it together—hideout he’d prepared for them...that’s far odder.

He glances over at Sara as they stroll down the street toward what he remembers is at least a decent shopping district. She seems serene at the moment, eyes on their path, huddled within his parka, which he’d insisted she keep for the moment. It’s starting to snow, just a little, and there’s a faint dusting of snowflakes on her golden hair and the silvery ruff of the coat.

If he’s stuck here for now, at least it’s with her.

He’s pretty sure Sara had felt his eyes on her from the first moment he’d glanced over, but she’d held her peace and let him watch her. Now, however, she turns her head just a little to meet his eyes, something thoughtful in her own expression. And he wonders if she’s been thinking about the same things he has.

But, no.

“You think those three time pirates might still be here?” she asks instead, tone serious and intent. “I did some damage, but if they’re marooned here too, it’s something to watch for."

Stupid, Snart. Get your mind on the game.

Leonard clears his throat, directing his gaze back to their path, moving aside with a nod to let another couple, both laden with packages, go by in the opposite direction. “Good point.”

The first time he’d been quite this distracted by another person, Alexa had made everything go sideways. The second time, Daniel had broken his heart in a completely different way. Letting himself get that distracted again doesn’t precisely have a good track record, and the mere fact that he’s thinking of Sara in the same thought as those two is...frightening.

They've been so close, recently, so close to something more. Something physical, certainly. He’s not sure what he thinks of something beyond that. It attracts him and…if he’s honest with himself, terrifies him in equal measure.

He and Mick haven’t precisely grown apart in the time they’ve been part of the team, even considering the Chronos situation. (They’d fought their way back from that. Literally.) But they’ve formed bonds with others, and even the cynic in him thinks that it’s not entirely a bad thing. More people in a team means more people to watch your back. More talents. More flexibility.

Leonard’s not ashamed to say that the strongest bond he’s formed is with Sara. But he’s come to value that so much that he really doesn’t want to jeopardize it. It’s an unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable feeling

Mick, unsurprisingly, has been on his old friend’s case to “cowboy up and do somethin’.” Generally, with a leer, but not without sympathy. Leonard’s been ignoring him steadfastly, at least about that.

Damn, he hopes Mick’s OK.

And the rest of the team. Even Hunter.

He sighs before he can help it, continuing to look ahead even as he senses Sara watching him again.

He needs to focus.

* * *

Stupid, Lance. You just absolutely _killed_ the moment.

Sara sighs internally even as Leonard sighs out loud, then glances at him, trying to read his thoughts. This isn’t the greatest time in…whatever’s going on between them…for them to get stuck somewhere alone together. Or maybe it is, by a different definition.

It all depends on what they want to do with it.

What do they want to do with it?

Her tangled thoughts, are, however, distracted for a moment as they arrive at the scene of the lights they’d been walking toward. Sara smiles despite herself at the sight of the ice rink around the huge Christmas tree, which had been hidden by the buildings around them until just now. It’s a Thursday afternoon, but given that it’s--she thinks a moment—only four days until Christmas, there are more people out then she’d usually expect on a weekday.

Leonard pauses a moment too, looking at the rink with an almost wistful expression, then begins to skirt it, heading around toward some stores on the other side.

“If memory serves...” he starts.

“And if usually does, with you.”

That gets her a smirk as he continues. “...there’s still a decent department store here. Rare in downtowns, now. It should serve.” He motions to the left. “And a grocery store over there. Specialty stuff, but we’ve got money.”

“Liquor store?” Sara asks archly before she can think better of it.

“That too.” Another smirk, this one with a sparkle behind the eyes again. Sara smirks back as they approach the department store, the sort of edifice she remembers from childhood and not much since. It even has an old-fashioned rotating door next to two more usual automatic ones, and it’s very pleasant close quarters for a moment as they move into the store, looking around themselves.

It’s decorated, of course, gold and red garland and sparkling lights, and Sara stops to admire the scene and listen to the Christmas music being piped in even as she chuckles at the song. Leonard lifts an eyebrow and Sara shakes her head.

“Not a big Mariah Carey fan,” she tells him, turning slowly to get her bearings. “But this one has a certain charm.”

He makes a thoughtful—and noncommittal—noise, but shrugs. “Meet you back here in half an hour?”

“Sure.” Sara wraps her fingers around the soft ruff of the parka tentatively. “Want your coat back? I’ll be trying on new ones.”

He seems almost reluctant to take it.

* * *

He’d rather liked the sight of Sara in his parka. Although part of that had been the relentless mental suggestion that he’d like the sight of Sara in his parka and nothing else even better. Leonard sighs internally as he turns toward the men’s section, draping the coat over his arm and cursing his distraction again. You’d think being here, in this time and place, would be a constant reminder of why getting distracted on a job is a bad idea.

But Sara's no Alexa.

And it’s not really a job now. It’s just...a waiting game. Distraction would be good. Right?

A certain part of his brain gives him a helpful suggestion for very effective distraction. Leonard glances back at Sara, who’s walking away, then closes his eyes.

Damn it.

* * *

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_ _There is just one thing I need_ _I don't care about the presents_ _Underneath the Christmas tree_

* * *

Sara wouldn’t mention it to Leonard right now, given that she knows their relative ages, but she remembers 1994 from the lofty vantage point of a 6-year-old. Just about to turn 7 right now, of course. She laughs slowly as she moves into the women’s section, looking around in amusement at the waning days of grunge chic. Well, she’s willing to be a walking bi cliché and wear some flannel; it will be warm, anyway.

She can’t picture Leonard doing the same, though. Indeed, the mental picture—complete with disgusted expression—makes her snort in amusement. Well...at long as he can find everything in unrelieved black or navy, he’ll be fine.

“OK, Sara,” she mutters to herself, picking up a hanger with a green flannel shirt on it. “Let’s find some mom jeans and a bomber jacket. Welcome to the 1990s.”

* * *

It’s not nearly as painful as it could be, and not long at all before she has an armload of flannel, denim and cotton, or whatever those T-shirts are made of. Sara wanders back toward their meeting point, juggling things while stuffing a few pairs of underwear and sports bras underneath the rest, idly inspecting what’s being given store pride of place as the “hot” gifts this year.

Of course, given the season, the section has its share of ugly—and completely unironic, at the time—Christmas sweaters. Sara smirks at a particularly gaudy reindeer on an eye-popping background of pinkish red, then looks through the rack in amusement before pausing at a sweater in a rich shade of cobalt blue. When she picks it up, the sparkly silver snowflakes on the front catch her eye.

“I like that one” says a very familiar drawl behind her.

How does he do that? To a trained assassin? Sara rolls her eyes and glances back at Leonard, who’s smirking at her and holding his own load of—all black, of course—clothing. “Of course you do.”

The smirk grows, and as she hangs it back up, he promptly reaches out to pick it back up. Sara blinks, then narrows her eyes.

“Don’t you dare buy me that,” she tells him.

“Why not?”

“Because...” Because if I go back to the shirt wearing a snowflake sweater, the Waverider rumor mill will have a field day. As if it already isn’t. Please let it will be OK to have a rumor mill. “Snart...seriously?”

Leonard’s eyes are sparkling again, and he leans over just a little, the smirk challenging. Sara leans a little closer too, almost against her will, and...

“No!”

They both whirl, and Sara’s not ashamed to admit that she promptly drops everything in her arms to the floor, ready to fight, although she restrains herself from pulling weapons in the store. The woman’s voice had been scared, with an edge of terror that Sara knows all too well from her vigilante years, and every instinct honed as the Canary is telling her that she needs to step in. Leonard’s tense besides her, and she knows he has his own reasons for being sensitive to what are so often euphemistically called “domestic disputes.”

There’s a woman, probably somewhere in her 30s, dressed in a neat suit with a store nametag, standing over by another set of doors that open onto a small parking lot. And there’s a tall man looming over her, fist balled up and holding her wrist in what Sara can tell from here is a punishing and painful grip, anger in his eyes and fury in the straight line of his mouth.

There’s invective spilling out of that mouth, but Sara doesn’t pay much attention to it as she takes a step forward. The woman is pleading with him to leave, telling him that the store will call the police, and indeed, Sara can also see an annoyed-looking man in a suit and nametag stalking toward them. A manager, she guesses. One who looks just as pissed at the woman as the man causing the problem.

“…bitch!” The word rises above the rest of the abuse. Sara looks back over just as the first man gives the woman a shake that snaps her head back. “Where are they? They’re _my_ kids. I got rights.”

Leonard…growls. There’s no better word for it. He takes a few steps toward the scene as the woman closes her eyes and tries unsuccessfully to rip her arm away. In some ways, it’s probably the best thing he could have done—because seeing the generally calm-and-controlled Leonard ready to explode makes Sara mentally take a step back from her own rage—and the bloodlust that, while it’s generally in control these days, simmers under the surface.

From the corner of her eye, she sees the manager scowl and pick up a phone from the counter where he’s paused. He seems far more irritated than concerned, and that doesn’t bode well for the woman, either.

What…ah.

“Miss!” Sara says, pitching her voice in a carrying tone she remembers from the most imperious customers at her long-ago retail jobs. “Miss! I need some help here! How much…” She quickly scoops up one of the shirts she’d dropped, unobtrusively giving the tag a good yank and pulling it off, balling it up in her fist. “…how much is this? There’s no tag and…”

She saunters right up to the pair, nose in the air, projecting “ditz” for all she’s worth. “…and I really want it for my friend Amaya. And it was just in the sweaters, and I don’t know…”

The man gapes at her, apparently uncertain what to make of this, and the woman takes his distraction as an opportunity to pull her arm free and step away quickly, reaching out to take the shirt. Sara can see a flicker of gratitude in her eyes; she knows exactly what Sara’s trying to do.

“Let me show you where these are supposed to be,” she says smoothly turning away and walking quickly toward the section where Sara had found the shirt. “There’s a sale; you should see…”

As they leave, Sara sees Leonard move to block their path, and she hopes fervently that she’s not going to have to find a way to bail him out of jail. But although (or because) he’s obviously spoiling for a fight, the other man apparently thinks better of following the women and Sara feels a slight draft as he leaves the store.

Sara glances over and sees the other woman’s shoulders slump, slightly, the tension draining away for at least a moment.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, stopping. “I could see what you were doing, there. I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome…” Sara looks at her nametag. “…Karen. What’s going on?”

Karen looked around furtively. “That’s my…well. My husband. I’m trying to make him my ex-husband.” She looks at Sara, sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t always like this. But when it started, with the kids…I had to get out. A friend’s church helped me find a place to live and get the kids into a new school. I’ve started the legal process. But…”

Her voice trails off, and Sara nods. “It’s OK,” she says quietly, knowing that it isn’t. “I get it.  Can…”

Footsteps make them both look around, Karen in surprise, Sara knowing that Leonard’s making sure they hear him. He stops a few feet away, nodding to them both.

“I made sure he left,” he tells them, and Sara can hear him trying to gentle his tone to conceal the fact that he’s obviously still furious. “He drove away.” He focuses on Karen. “You have a safe place to go? And your kids…?”

The woman starts speaking to him in a low voice, while Sara tucks the shirt she’s carrying over her arm, thinking that she should go back for the items they’d dropped. But she’s only taken a step or two in that direction when she sees the manager heading toward them, and he doesn’t look happy.

Sara, sighing inwardly, steps into his path, but he detours right around her with barely a glance.

_Ah, it’s like that, is it?_

Leonard sees the other man a moment before he gets to them, and Sara can very nearly see him make one of those split-second decisions of his. As she watches him set his shoulders (not without a tiny flinch) and turn, drawing himself up self-importantly, she thinks (again) that he might have made a hell of an actor.

“There you are,” he barks, turning to shield Karen as the manager stutters to a surprised halt before him. “You’re the store manager?”

The man blinks at him. “Assist--,” he starts before deciding to let Leonard give him a sort of promotion. “Yes. And I apologize, sir, for the disturb…”

“It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, making sure this woman...” He dips his head toward the bemused-looking Karen. “...has a safe place to work. Very...” Maybe only Sara sees his momentary struggle not to…what? Probably snicker out loud. “…moral. The sort of thing that should be rewarded.”

“I…” the man’s eyes widen. “Ah.” Sara sees him struggle to rework his expectations for this conversation, which he’d lost control of nearly immediately. “Thank you. But...”

Leonard doesn’t let him off the hook. “You know, I’m a member of…of a local group that honors and rewards such kind acts,” he drawls. “You’ve probably heard…”

Sara’s hiding a smile, recognizing Leonard’s time-honored con artist’s tactic, but the assistant manager immediately falls for it.

“…the Colloquy Club?” he says in surprise…and a certain amount of eagerness as Leonard nods pompously. “Ah…you think…they value such things greatly here, corporate does. Try to support the community. Acknowledge honors given by such groups…come review time…plaques…awards…raises…” His voice trails off and Sara continues to watch amusement as Leonard jerks his chin to the side, ushering the man over and continuing a low-voiced conversation about what would be involved in receiving such an honor.

Sara herself bites back another laugh, then wanders over toward Karen, who’s hugging herself and rather obviously wondering if she should be going back to work or waiting to see what sort of punishment she’s in for.

She glances at Sara as she nears, though, and Sara’s impressed to see a hint of a smile on her face. She’s resilient. Sara can respect that.

“I…thank you,” she says quietly. “For stepping in. People…they tend to look the other way.”

“No woman should suffer at the hands of men,” Sara murmurs, then shakes her head. “I couldn’t. And _he_ couldn’t.” She nods to Leonard, who’s still engaged in setting his hooks into the assistant manager. “Just trust me on that.”

Karen studies her, then nods. “Still. Thank you.” She looks over at Leonard. “ _Your_ husband? It’s nice to know there are good ones.”

Sara, blinking, opens her mouth without really knowing what she’s going to say, but then Leonard’s sauntering back toward her, a hint of a smirk hovering about his mouth, and the assistant manager is following eagerly in his wake.

“Ms. McCrea,” he drawls, not without gentleness, “Mr. Schmitt here will be making sure you have a lovely and peaceful Christmas.” One blue eye drifts shut in a wink that neither Karen or Sara miss. “Just be sure to let him know if there’s anything you need. OK? And if something doesn’t go according to plan.” The smile gets just a trifle mean (though not to her) as he hands her a piece of paper, although Sara does wonder when on Earth he’d had a chance to write it down…and that he has a phone number he remembers in this mostly pre-cell phone age in the first place.

Karen takes it, though, with the air of a woman who understands, at least somewhat, what he’s proffering. “Thank you, Mr….”

“Mr. Wynters,” Leonard tells her with only the barest of hesitations. “Alexander Wynters. And the pleasure is mine.” He flicks a glance back at the manager. “You have a very merry Christmas, now.”

The other man starts babbling something that at least attempts to sound earnest, but Sara and Leonard have already started back to retrieve their items. After pausing a moment in uncertainly, Karen follows them, helping them pick things up and ushering them over to a register and logging in.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she says in a low tone as she quickly scans their items. “I…he’s been threatening to let me go if they were any more ‘disturbances.’ And I’ve been trying to get more assistance from the police, but they pretty much have to catch him in the act, and…” Her voice trails off. “Well. Thank you.”

Sara glances at Leonard, thinking that the job situation is really only the tip of the iceberg here, but he’s watching the other woman calmly, with no sign of concern. That, in turn, seems to further calm Karen, who keeps working methodically. Still, Sara can see the curiosity dawn on her face as she starts to take further notice of what they’re buying—an entire wardrobe, really.

Leonard notices, too. Because he moves before Sara does to give her a reason for the purchase. “Airline lost our bags,” he drawls, leaning on the counter casually. “Just need things for a few days.”

The explanation is plausible, more than enough to distract her. “Oh no!” Karen pauses just as Sara realizes that the last item she’d scanned is the sweater Leonard had threatened to buy her. “Christmas presents and everything? That’s awful. How long are you here? I know they say there might be flights canceled because of the snow we’re supposed to get…”

 _Snow_? Sara clears her throat. “Not long,” she says with a smile. “And that wasn’t really a problem. We’re fine.”

Karen smiles back, accepting cash from Leonard to pay for the bags full of clothing. She’s probably still a little curious, but Sara can see that she’s accepted the words.

“Well,” she says, smiling at them both as she returns their change. “At least you’re together.”

Sara’s not sure if Leonard’s aware of the other woman’s supposition that they’re a couple, but he plays along, dipping his head in acknowledgement and taking two of the bags as Sara reaches for the other.

And then he surprises her.

“Indeed,” her friend, her teammate, her notoriously touch-shy crooks says, reaching to take Sara’s free hand in his, for all the world like they are indeed a married couple. “Remember. Let us know if you need anything.” He nods to a few bills he’s left on the counter. “Just in case. I know it’s hard to make ends meet with…everything going on. Make sure you and your kids have a good holiday.”

Karen stares, then beams at them as they turn to walk away. “I will. Thank you so much. For everything!”

Sara keeps the surprise from showing on her face until they’ve turned, then darts a glance at Leonard, who’s steadfastly looking forward. He lets her hand go to use the rotating door back out into the cold and doesn’t, slightly to her regret, pick it back up again, although he does give her a quick look as if gauging how the gesture had been received.

Sara just gives him a sort of smirk as she moves back to his side. “You’re a good man, Leonard Snart,” she murmurs, for his ears alone. It’s dark now, the sun having set while they were inside the store; well, it’s only one day past the solstice. There are Christmas lights all around the plaza, on the big Christmas tree and around the skating rink, and it’s actually rather lovely.

It’s starting to snow, too, and that would be lovely if it wasn’t a bit alarming. Sara shivers a little, wishing she’d kept her new jacket out, and then starts as the parka drops back onto her shoulders. Leonard gives her a…smirk? Smile? Too much of a combination for her to tell.

“Shh. Don’t tell anyone,” he says quietly, snowflakes starting the dust the black of his sweater, the spare one he’d pulled on back at the safehouse because of the bullet hole in his other one. It’s a little tighter, but in spite of or because of that, it looks good. He looks good.

They regard each other another moment, and then Leonard glances away first, turning to look around the plaza. “Groceries,” he mutters. “Especially if there’s any chance it might be too crappy out later.”

Sara’s stomach rumbles at the thought. “Can we get something to eat at an actual restaurant first?” she asks, trying not to sound too plaintive. “I’m starving. And you didn’t have much more than a hot plate back at the safehouse, did you?”

Leonard glances at her. Snowflakes are collecting on his eyelashes. His damned unfair, sexy eyelashes. And maybe she’s getting just a little loopy from stress and hunger. “Could do that.” He glances around again. “Italian OK? There’s a place right over there, if I remember right.”

“Sounds fabulous.”

* * *

Yes. Yes, he really does like the sight of Sara in his coat. Leonard ignores the cold as they cross the plaza again, furtively watching the woman at his side. She’s pink-cheeked from the cold, but still looking all over with every evidence of great interest.

Well, it is sort of pretty here, in an overly festive sort of way. All the lights are shining and there’s music playing…the same upbeat song Sara had commented on in the store earlier. There are a good many people out and about, skating and drinking hot cocoa and visiting the shops. Nice, if you like that sort of thing.

If you aren’t distracted by the fact that you’re from more than 20 years in the future. If you aren’t distracted because you don’t know if your team is OK, if they’ll be able to come back for you. Or if you aren’t distracted because the teammate you are stuck with is distracting in a completely different way…

The small Italian restaurant is, indeed, at the other side of the plaza, and it’s just as good as he recalls from those long-ago—well, not now—days when he was setting up the safehouse here. (He remembers thinking that even Alexa would like it.) He splurges a little on chicken parm, and Sara gets some veggie primavera dish, and they trade stories about favorite restaurants as they eat, resolutely ignoring the precariousness of their position here. Except for that underlying stress, it’d be rather like a date, Leonard thinks with a touch of bemusement, watching Sara twine pasta around her fork and grin at him. If they were the sort of people who did prosaic things like dates. If…

He cuts the “if” off at the knees. It’s neither the place nor the time. Literally.

* * *

Sara’s positive that she didn’t imagine the intent way Leonard was watching her at the restaurant, intent and with attraction lurking behind the expression. It’d be so easy to let go and imagine that they’re out for a bit of shore leave, seeing where things take them, the way she’s thought about suggesting so often as time has gone by.

But she says nothing, and neither does he, and they pay for their meal and head back out into the snow. It’s a little hard to realize that the whole mission with the time pirates was earlier today, that they’d left the ship only that morning. Sara realizes that she’s starting to crash, a little. With all her League training, she can keep going days without sleep, if she needs to, but she shouldn’t need to, not now. They do have a safe place to stay. And they do have each other to watch their backs.

Leonard glances at her, and Sara thinks he looks a little tired, too. Still, they head for the grocery store then, joking a bit as they pick out both the practical and the ridiculous. (“C’mon, crook. We definitely need the liquor-filled chocolates. Well…we need them about as much as we need the fancy hot chocolate and gourmet mint marshmallows!”) Then they make for the safehouse, taking a slightly more circuitous route just in case.

One lot not far away from the plaza is decked out with its own set of lights and a slightly picked-over selection of evergreen trees, although there are still families inspecting them. Sara smiles, thinking of family trips to get a tree in her own childhood, and inhales deeply, catching the scent of pine on the breeze.

“It’s so close to Christmas,” she says, watching her breath fog up in the chilly air. “Maybe we should get a tree.”

She’s joking, at least a little, but Leonard doesn’t respond at first, notably silent. She glances at him, noting the rather odd expression on his face and wondering what it means. After another moment, though, he nods, and looks back at her, and the odd look has faded. Maybe she’d imagined it.

“Wouldn’t mind one,” he says. “Maybe we should.”

Sara laughs, startled. “OK. Tomorrow, though. I’m beat.”

“Mmhmm.”

They walk a little more, in silence, before Leonard breaks it again. The air has the particular stillness that comes with heavier snow, and there aren’t as many people around now.

“You know, technically speaking, I’m Jewish,” he muses, staring ahead into the falling snow. “Through my mom.”

Sara’s surprised by the words…not by their content, but because even as they’ve grown closer, Leonard’s parents have been one topic he’s rarely mentioned, although Sara’s told him plenty about hers. He’ll mention Lewis disparagingly from time to time, but his mother…never. She keeps it from her face, though, nodding as he looks over at her, and he continues.

“Lewis didn’t like acknowledging that…but whenever he was gone, in prison or just MIA, my mom would try to teach us…well, me…what she could,” he says with a shrug. “But then she left…or whatever happened…and well. And I’m hardly much of a believer in anything but cold, hard cash these days.”

He’s full of shit on that, but Sara lets it go. “We don’t need…”

“Nah. Let’s.” He smiles a little. “You know, I did the whole secular Christmas tree and gifts thing for Lisa when she was little, as much as I could. I actually have some good memories there.”

“Still…do you want…I know it’s not the same, but we could get a menorah.” Sara thinks about it. “Or has Hanukkah already passed this year? I have no idea.”

“Early this year. Already passed.” Leonard shrugs when she glances at him. “There’s a calendar at the house. And speaking of…”

He makes an abrupt turn, and Sara follows him into an alleyway, and before she knows it, they’re back at the concealed doorway to the safe house. Sara roots through the bags and checks the comms (still dead) while Leonard starts putting things away in the cupboards and small fridge. Then, despite the relatively early hour, she makes a decision. She grabs the sweats she’d bought to sleep in and a toothbrush and toothpaste, then steps into the tiny bathroom to get changed.

Leonard apparently agrees with her assessment that an early night is a good thing, because when she emerges, he’s tucking some sheets around the futon, because of course he is. And of course there’s not another bed in the place, but they’ve shared before with only moderate cuddling and a bit of flirting and… Sara clears her throat and holds the toothpaste out to him. Leonard says nothing but lifts an eyebrow as he takes it.

Sara’s studying the bulky ‘90s TV (and actual VCR!) when he emerges in the T-shirt and loose pants that serve him as sleeping gear, then watches as he checks the door and, giving her an inquiring look, motions toward the light switch.

“You can read, or whatever,” she tells him. “The light won’t bother me. But I’m tired, and I’m going to crash. All the better to deal with things tomorrow.”

Leonard’s lips twitch. “And I,” he returns, leaning against the wall, “got shot today. Sort of.” He waves off her questions about his shoulder. “It’s fine. But I’m beat. Early night for both of us, then?”

“Yeah.”

Somehow, lying down next to him in the bed, in the dark, is more intimate than doing the same thing in the Waverider. Sara stretches out on the left side, staring up into the darkness, then glances over.

Leonard’s looking back at her, his face shadowed in the darkened room. He has one long arm (the right, unbandaged one) stretched out on the mattress toward her, and he’s watching her intently. When he sees her looking back, one corner of his mouth ticks up in a barely visible smile.

“Warmer this way,” he says very quietly. “If you want.”

“Warm is good.”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, Sara moves toward him, resting her head on his shoulder. She feels him pulling the blankets up over them both, and sighs again, closing her eyes.

“Night, Sara.”

“Night, Len.”

 

_I don't need to hang my stocking_

_There upon the fireplace_

_Santa Claus won't make me happy_

_With a toy on Christmas day_


End file.
